Part 1: Vulnerable
by MahhBabyNialler
Summary: After someone breaks into Brielle's house, things get sort of...crazy. There are two new guys at school, both gorgeous yet completely opposite of each other; one looks absolutely perfect, whereas the other has a rugged, sort of mysterious look about him. Which will Brielle fall for? And what potentially fatal secrets are the guys hiding? Summary sucks. Oh well. Haha. R&R :D
1. Chapter 1: Brielle Darby

**A/N: So, this is my edited version of the story. Hope you like it ;D**

**-Cammy xx**

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**1. **

My heavy lids opened to the pitter-patter of rain against my window.

Sighing, I looked over to my digital alarm clock which read 4:38 a.m., informing me that I'd woken up before my alarm. Again. I groggily pried my comforter off of me and slid my legs over the side of my bed. I glanced out my window at the dark, early morning sky and wished that there was no school today; that today wasn't Monday.

My hair was plastered to the sides of my face with sweat, reminding me of my reoccurring nightmare. The one where someone was jerking me roughly from the ground and carrying me into the unknown. I was paralyzed; frozen with fear. It was dark, the kind of dark that, even when you're sixteen and haven't been afraid of the dark for at least ten years, makes you believe in monsters and the boogeyman all over again. The person carrying me was definitely male, I didn't know how I could tell — but I could. I don't know where he carried me to, we just kept walking, and I couldn't keep my eyes open. It rained — it was always raining. I'd been having that same nightmare every night for the past three weeks, but I was still clueless as to what it could mean.

I finally stood and made my way to my old, rickety window. It took all my strength to force it open, but I managed it, letting the downpour splash against my face. I closed my eyes and focused on the cold water cascading over my skin. It felt so unbelievingly refreshing, like I could never sleep again. All the cares in the world left me then. But eventually, they came crashing back down onto my shoulders, like the imaginary heavyweights they were. I vigorously shut my window and padded to my bathroom, readying myself for the day ahead.

•••

"All I'm saying is that you should totally go all out this year. I mean, you didn't really do anything big for your Sweet Sixteen, so you should at least have a Sweet Seventeen, don't you think?" Kailyn asked me during lunch hour later that day.

"Nah, I mean, you've known me for like four years. Since when have I liked huge blowout parties?" I shot back with a smirk.

"Well…" She looked flustered.

"Exactly my point. I'd love just to chill with you and Rhiannon and Layne. We could just go to the movies or the mall or-"

"Uh? No. That's basically what we did last year! C'mon Brielle, you gotta give me something to work with!" My birthday was in two weeks and already my best friend Kailyn was trying to plan out every little detail of it. Last year we'd simply hung out with two of our other good friends, Rhiannon and Layne. We didn't really do much, just stocked up on Ben & Jerry's Fish Food ice cream, popcorn and watched my favorite 80's movies like "Pretty In Pink", and "St. Elmo's Fire", "Sixteen Candles" and, of course, "The Breakfast Club". If only John Hughes had directed my life.

"Kailyn. Calm down, we have like two weeks. I really don't want to do anything big, and besides, you know I don't even like half the people that go to this school. Why would I want them in my house?" I inquired.

"Alright, alright," she replied, holding her hands up, palms facing me, "we don't have to do anything big…I just want you to enjoy your youth for crap's sake!" She exclaimed, basically causing half the students in the cafeteria to gawk at us before returning to their helplessly boring lives. I sighed, rolling my eyes ever so slightly.

"Whatever, Kay. Subject change." I picked at my quite possibly poisoned school lunch and silently wished I'd brought something from home or was at least smart enough to go off campus to the Wendy's only three blocks over before the bell rang, signaling us that lunch hour was over.

"Well…How about the new guy?"

"What new guy?" I asked looking around the spacious café, expecting to pick him out of the crowd right away. No such luck.

"Oh please. You haven't heard about the new kid that literally _everyone_ is talking about? He got here last Thursday. Weird that he'd choose to start his first day in the middle of the week, but whatever. He's pretty hot: tan, blonde hair, blue eyes." She raised an eyebrow at me, "He'd definitely go for you," she sang out.

"Yeah. Okay. I haven't even seen the guy and you're already trying to play matchmaker? Kailyn, I told you that I'm done with guys for right now…" I trailed off. Thinking of _him_ caused me to draw my eyebrows together out of habit. She reached over and smoothed them, out of habit as well.

"Asher is history. He never deserved you. Ugh, I could call him so many words right now, but I'm not. Turns out those Christian private schools my parents forced me in when I was little might've actually paid off. _Anyways, _Warren so looks like he'd totally be into the whole short and curvy kind of girl." I scrunched my nose at her and stood up, snatching my tray up from the table and walking over to the trash to throw it away. His name was _Warren?_ The bell rang, informing us all that we had a whole five minutes to get to class. Kailyn and I exited the lunch room and went our separate ways.

Kailyn had always been the spontaneous, exuberant one. She never cared what people thought of her and was constantly talking or laughing with random people. I guess that's why we were such great friends, opposites attract and all that. Her being this bubbly girl whom everyone got along with, the girl who always knew what to say. As opposed to me; the girl who could never control what left her lips. The girl who stumbled over her own words.

I'd known Kailyn since eighth grade when I'd first moved to Carmel, California. It was my first time ever riding a school bus, (what with being driven to school everyday by my dad back in Minnesota) and she'd just hopped into my seat like it was absolutely normal and introduced herself, shoving her tan hand toward my face.

Kailyn had always been on the tall side but now she was _tall_, like, supermodel tall, with long tan legs that went on for what seemed like miles. She had light brown hair — basically blonde if you asked me — that fell to her collarbone in loose waves. Her perfectly almond-shaped eyes were a gorgeous shade of emerald with a sort of caramel color mixed in somewhere, turning her eyes almost hazel at times. She had a sprinkle of light freckles over the bridge of her nose, but other than that, her face wasn't blemished in the slightest.

I stepped into Pre-Calculus and took a seat near the back next to a guy I'd met only last year named Justin Christianson. I looked over at him and he nodded hello, I gave him a small grin in return and quickly took out a pen and a few sheets of paper. Unfortunately, note taking in Mr. Davis' class was essential to passing his benchmark exams, so I got to writing.

After AP English and Spanish II, I finally hopped into my silver Camaro and sped off toward home. When I got there, a note from my dad was taped to the front door. In my father's barely legible scrawl, it read:

_Out with Blake. Won't be back until late. Leftovers in fridge._

_-Dad_

I stepped inside and gently closed the front door behind me, locking it out of paranoia. Of course my dad would pick the one night he's actually home to spend with his best friend Blake. My father worked in pharmaceuticals, which meant that he traveled a bit. Which meant that I barely saw my only parent. I exhaled loudly and dragged myself up the stairs and into my room, setting my backpack down in the chair in the corner. I laid down on my bed and started to drift, thankful that today had been one of those rare days when I had astonishingly finished every one of my homework assignments during school. Miracle.

•••

When I awoke, I squeezed my eyes closed for a second and opened them again, making sure that what I saw was real. I sat up and looked quizzically at my now open window. I stepped carefully over to it, not sure how to react. I knew for a fact that it hadn't been open before I'd gone to sleep, and it took some muscle to open that thing, it wasn't like the wind could've pushed it open. I stuck my head out past the window pane to see if anything else looked out of the ordinary, but it was too dark to see anything very far away from my house. I guessed that it was probably between eleven o'clock and midnight, it looked too dark to be any earlier. I gave up, basically slamming my window shut and stepping carefully down the stairs. I felt an odd breeze and realized that the front door was open.

No freaking way.

I distinctly remembered locking the door right after I'd gotten home that night. Hadn't I? Yes. Yes, I had.

I held my breath, straining to hear anything unusual. It was then that I heard it — not breathing exactly, but more like a hitch in something — some_one's _breathing. My eyes shot this way and that, searching for anything that could've made the sound.

"Dad?" I called out. Maybe he was home. Maybe it had been him who'd opened the front door. Maybe he'd had a few drinks and was a little tipsy and had forgotten to close the door.

_Doubt it. _My subconscious told me. My dad gave up alcohol years ago, there was no way he'd subject himself to any situation with liquor involved. He was too strong for that.

Deep down underneath though, I knew. I knew it wasn't my dad who was home but someone else entirely. But _where? _

"Who's there?" I was now whispering. The brims of my eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of what or who might be in my house.

"Who are you?" I croaked.

"Brielle…" I tensed at the sound of my name, at the husky voice that had spoken it. I shivered as I slowly turned around, facing the direction it had come from. Standing at the base of my stairs was…nothing.

No one.

•••

I didn't sleep at all that night. It had been three days since it had occurred and I hadn't told anyone. Who would've believed me anyway? Who could it have been? _And he knew my name._ He knew me! I'd replayed everything that had happened that night in my head thousands of times, but not once did I recognize the man's voice. It didn't sound like a man really, more like that of someone who was in the middle of becoming a man. He was not a boy, yet not an adult either. It was the voice of someone who I didn't know, yet of someone who knew me.

I made my way through the halls of Carmel High but couldn't remember where I was supposed to be going. World History? No, it couldn't have been fourth period yet. I just got here. Hadn't I? Maybe it was first period, Stem right? No — first period was Theatre, or was that last year? I couldn't think. I hadn't gotten but about four hours of sleep in the past three days. Why was everything blurring together? And that's when my migraine hit. Ugh. I sped toward the bathroom and started to splash cold water on my face, but as soon as I closed my eyes, I heard the voice in the back of my mind. His voice.

_Brielle… _he whispered faintly. Oh God. I was going insane. Oh God.

I booked it toward the front office where I desperately asked Mrs. Hampton to give me a pass to leave campus early. She gave it to me. I almost hit two other cars as I tried to get out of the school parking lot in a rush. Finally, I made it home — where my dad wasn't — and hurriedly locked all of the doors and windows, knowing my father wouldn't be home until eleven at the earliest, and tried to get some sleep.

I accomplished at least one thing out of all of this "trying to get sleep" business: procrastination. I laid in my bed, not able to sleep for at least three hours, but I couldn't move. _What if he's here now? _I would constantly think to myself, then I'd become too terrified to move. Finally though, my fatigue won out over my fear and I succumbed to the darkness behind my eyelids.

When I did wake up, I smelled something burning and the first thing that came to mind was _HE SET MY HOUSE ON FIRE! _But then I heard the panicky intakes of breath my father made and I could breathe again. I just about tumbled down the stairs, the burnt edge in the air wasn't necessarily helping my migraine that had never completely subsided, and found that my dad had only burned a few taco shells that he'd accidentally left on a hot burner.

"Hey there, Bri," he greeted me with a sheepish gleam in his eye.

"Hey…What you doing there Dad?" I asked him.

"Oh! Uh, nothing, just making dinner," he said in a faked casual tone.

"Mhm, at," I looked at the microwave's clock, "1:04 in the morning? Yes. I couldn't think of a better time to make dinner." I shot him a playful grin and strolled over to take a few Ibuprofen and then help him with "dinner". Such a subjective word.

•••

The weekend came as a major relief; I could focus on something other than whatever had been in my house Monday night. Kailyn and I were meeting up at a little coffee shop just off of Ocean Avenue called The Java Drip. Pulling into the parking lot, I spotted her familiar white Jeep. I parked next to it and made my way inside the slightly stuffy café. I found Kailyn sitting at our usual table in the back corner so no one could pry into our conversations, and sat in the chair opposite her.

"Already ordered the usual," she grinned at me as I sat down. She pushed my coffee toward me and I thanked her with a cheeky smile, already sipping at the still-warm liquid.

"So, what's up?" She'd called me about two hours earlier, told me that I had to meet her at the Drip, and insisted that I look extra cute. So I showered, threw on some red Chinos, a black and white striped shirt, my Toms, and applied some mascara. I probably wouldn't be the first to admit that I'm really nothing special to look at.

"Uh, well. I just got some new nail polish, Warren's going to be here, and you look absolutely adorable!" She huffed it all out in one breath. I started to thank her but then backtracked.

"Hold up. _Warren?_ What part of 'I don't want a relationship right now' do you not understand? Kailyn! I've never even met him!" I stared her down and found that she was looking guiltily over my shoulder.

"Well, you have now," said a throaty voice from behind me. I no longer felt like drinking my coffee. I slowly turned to face the most beautiful guy I'd ever met before in my life. He had to have been at least six and a half feet tall, no exaggeration whatsoever, and sort of had that Calvin Klein model feel about him. His thin shirt was a little snug and you could tell that he was basically built of pure muscle. He had straight sandy blonde hair that he spiked a bit at the front, going for that whole "windblown" look. His gorgeous azure blue eyes stared back at me intently. On his full lips played a smirk and I knew he knew I was ogling him. I didn't like him already. Warren sat down in the chair on the end of the small square table to my left.

"So, Warren," Kailyn said, "this is Brielle. Brielle Darby. Bri, this here is Warren…" she trailed off looking up at him, waiting for him to enlighten us both with his last name.

"Kyle. Warren Kyle," he informed us smoothly.

"Ah yes. Warren Kyle," she smiled at me broadly. In response my lips formed a tight line. She didn't seemed phased by this.

"Warren just moved here from New York," she raised her eyebrows suggestively at me. "Warren, why did you move here from New York again?" _Again? _She had talked to him about this before?

He kept his eyes on me, which I felt oddly disturbing and said, "I thought I might find what I'm looking for here." He said it like there was some kind of hidden meaning behind it and he wanted me to figure out what it meant.

"And what's that exactly?" I inquired.

"Oh you know, a nice tan, some surfing lessons." He shrugged nonchalantly and stood up, "Do you guys want anything else?"

"Nah," Kailyn replied with a shake of her head. As soon as Warren left I looked over at her.

"I can't believe you."

"I was trying to do you a favor!"

"I don't need any favors done for me, _especially_ not one involving a guy."

"Brielle."

"Kailyn."

"You think he's hot."

"Do not."

"Oh. You totally do."

"Oh I totally don-" Warren walked back over then, his cup of coffee still steaming. He took his seat once again and sipped at his coffee.

"So what do you do?" He asked me.

"What do I do…?" I asked.

"Hobbies…job…anything really."

"Uh, music. And dance. And I write," I replied a little stiffly, "What about you?"

"I guess I read a lot, and I write too, poetry mostly. Sucky poetry at that," he chuckled, "Other than that…I guess I'm just more of the outdoor type. I like trees and the ocean and just, nature in itself. That's another reason I moved out here. New York didn't have enough trees." Huh. Wow. I didn't figure him for a mushy, poetic tree hugger. But whatever.

"Cool. Well," I said, clasping my hands together and standing up, "I have to go. Sorry but I have to go wash my cat." I made up the most pathetic excuse I could think of, just so he knew he was being blown off. I'd talk to Kailyn about her ridiculous attempt at hooking me up with Newbie later.

"Brielle…You don't have a cat…" Kailyn said slowly, like I was going insane.

"I know," I snapped, hoping I made it clear to the both of them I was annoyed and, well, just plain angry. I snatched up my coffee and walked contently out the front door of The Java Drip.

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**A/N: Review for me? Thanks ;3**

**-Cammy xx**


	2. Chapter 2: Brielle Darby

**2.**

That night I dreamt of Asher.

To be honest, I couldn't go an hour without thinking of him and the way we used to be, especially when I had two classes with him everyday at school. He was always at the back of my mind. Unfortunately. Asher and I had dated for nearly two years — he'd broken up with me two days before our anniversary. No one anticipated it, least of all me. I thought everything was going great. We went everywhere together, holding hands and kissing whenever we got the chance. We were never able to be apart for more than an hour. Inseparable, everyone had called us. I was a freshman when he'd first asked me out, and he'd been a sophomore. He was quarterback on the varsity football team and the guy every girl at our school daydreamed about, I would know. And, yes, he'd just broken up with me about one month earlier. August ninth to be exact, the day we came back from summer break.

In my dream we were at a park near my house that usually only little kids went to. He sat in a swing and I sat on his lap, leaning back into his chest. He buried his face into the curve of my neck, his silky brown hair tickling my cheek. I sighed, content with his arms around my waist, with our swing swaying slightly; content with everything surrounding us in our little bubble. He kissed my collarbone lightly and turned his head so he could peer up at me with his light hazel eyes. He kissed my neck where his cheek had just been pressed against and continued to kiss up to my earlobe. He reached up and smoothed my hair lovingly, reassuringly, and kissed my temple. I turned to where I was straddling his lap and hugged him fiercely, something I hadn't done as of late. He wrapped his arms around me as well, holding me to him protectively. He pulled away and looked me deeply in the eyes. He kissed me.

I woke up crying. It was the first night in about a month I hadn't had my nightmare, but this was a nightmare in itself. My own, personal hell. I hugged my pillow, shoulders hunched with silent sobs, hot tears slipping down the back of my throat. I didn't want to wake my dad, he'd only try to comfort me, and that would be awkward and completely unhelpful. How could Kailyn try and hook me up with someone so soon after who I thought was the love of my life ripped my heart to shreds and left it shattered at my own feet? How was I ever supposed to feel that way about any guy ever again? I couldn't. It just didn't feel possible. My heart was this tattered, mangled thing that I felt no one could ever fix. And who would want to, anyway? Who would want to take on this kind of challenge? No one.

When I could finally breathe without my breath hitching and my throat closing, I stumbled into my bathroom and mopped myself up.

_I won't think of Asher for the rest of the day_, I promised myself.

I decided on relaxing at home, keeping my distance from everybody. When I went downstairs, my father was already up and in his suit and tie, talking on the phone with one of his coworkers or adversaries, you could never really tell when it came to what he did. But, now that I thought about it, I _didn't_ really know what his job was. All I knew was that he worked in pharmaceuticals. Plain and simple. He never went into detail about what it was he did and I never asked. I think he got a job that took up most of his time so that he wouldn't have to think about my mom. Or how she'd died when I was thirteen. Her and my father had gotten into an argument one night, over what I didn't know; they'd always kept adult things between the two of them. After they fought, my mom stormed out of the house, her tires squealing as she raced down our long driveway. I didn't know then that I'd never hear those tires on that gravel again; that I'd never hear the lullabies she used to sing me to sleep with, even though I was too old for them. Turns out she'd been hit by a drunk driver, a senior in high school who had been at a college frat party. He was speeding, driving ninety-five when the limit was fifty miles-per-hour. Next thing I know we're at her funeral and my dad's going to AA meetings. He hadn't taken a sip of alcohol (that I knew of) in the past three years and hadn't said a word about my mother in all that time either. We'd moved to Carmel from Duluth, Minnesota when I was thirteen and in eighth grade. My dad told me that we moved because he got a job offer, but I think we moved so Dad wouldn't be reminded of Mom everywhere he went. And that's how my life spun an entire 180 and everything completely changed.

I sighed and walked into my kitchen to toast a bagel.

"Morning," he mouthed to me and went back to his conversation. I sighed quietly. I plugged the toaster in and tossed in the bagel. I watched as my dad collected his things and went to walk out of the kitchen and out the front door, then turned to look at me. He quickly stumbled back over to me, hands full, Bluetooth headset clipped to his ear, and kissed my forehead, then left. Typical Dad.

When my bagel shot up out of the toaster, I grabbed it, buttered it, and walked back into my living room. After devouring my bagel and flipping through countless channels, I still couldn't find anything that captured my interest, so I stepped up my stairs and took a long hot shower. Tranquility washed through me as the water soothed my every tensed muscle. I finally forced myself to turn the water off and hop out. Deciding to get out of the house, I changed into a pair of black skinny jeans, a loose gold tank top, and gold slip-on Vans. My inky-black hair fell nearly to my waist in natural ringlets, and on the back of my head sat a knitted black beanie. I coated my eyelids with a shimmering shade of bronze and swept on some mascara. I grabbed my tan crocheted bag and slipped it over my head and let it lay across my torso. I snatched my car keys up from my desk, my iPhone, and grabbed my black Ray-Bans. I stepped out my front door and locked it, just to be on the safe side. Go on ahead and call me paranoid, but I, after what happened, didn't want to take _any _chances. As soon as I got in the Camaro, I dialed Kailyn, she picked up on the third ring.

"Hola?"

"Hey Kay, you want to chill at Java for a bit?" We could live at The Java Drip. Literally, Java to us was like Nando's to Niall.

"Uh…Yeah, sure. Wait. Is this about Warren?" She sighed.

"What else would it be about?" I asked, my tone laced with mock politeness.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe you just wanted to spend some quality time with your best friend?"

"Whatever Kailyn. Just meet me there," I chuckled. I could not stay angry at her, she'd been my best friend since eighth grade. I wasn't going to turn on her now over something she thought would make me happy. I turned onto Ocean Avenue, almost to the coffee shop when it happened; when I heard the horrifying screeching sound of metal against metal right before everything went dark.

•••

When I woke up, the blankets on which I laid were stiff and scratchy. I opened my eyes groggily and pain immediately shot through the left side of my skull. Everything looked hazy and the light hurt my eyes; everything was so excruciatinglywhite. I heard a sudden sigh of relief and turned painfully to my right, where my father sat, looking at me with his worry-filled gray eyes. My right hand instinctively reached up to where the agony still laced my head and gently felt at the gauze there. I looked down to my right arm and it was in a brace. What was I doing in the hospital? What happened to me?

"Thank God," my father stared at me, relief starting to replace the worry in his eyes.

"Dad? What happened?" My mangled voice sounded barely human as I croaked out those three words.

"You were in an accident, honey." _What?_ Oh. That's right. The collision came back in a flash, the car hitting the passenger side of my Camaro.

"How long have I been in here?" He looked fatigued, I mean, he looked_ really_ tired, like he'd been up all night. He had bags under his eyes and he could hardly keep them open, like he was waiting for me to give him permission to sleep.

"Two days. You have a minor concussion, but the doctor said other than that, you only have this head wound and your wrist is fractured. It's amazing that you can walk away with a brace, a few bruises, and a headache." He smiled softly. Two days?

"Did anyone else get hurt?" I asked, my voice gradually becoming more and more coherent.

"No, but the young man that hit you has been waiting outside the door since you both arrived here. He said he wanted to apologize. He's a mess honey, a real mess."

"Well then," I sighed, "bring him on in and let him apologize." Might as well get this over with.

"Alright," he reached over and patted my good hand, "Oh, and Kailyn has been here too. She actually just left to get some rest, would you like me to call her to come back?"

"No no, she needs sleep, and so do you. I'll be fine, why don't you go and try to get some rest?" I asked.

"Well…are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course," I sighed, all this talking was making my head hurt even more. "Now bring him in."

"That's my girl, looking better already," he smiled at me again. I tried my best to smile back at him, but the most I could manage was a grimace. My head was still pounding. I could hardly even feel the pain in my left arm, the throbbing of my head wound drowned just about all of it out. My father got to his feet and trudged to the door. When he opened it, he looked to the right and gestured for the guy to come in. He stepped out just as the stranger stepped in and, for a moment, the young man just stared at me. What surprised me most was that, he hadn't been hurt one bit in the crash; not a single mark visible.

His eyes were not dark brown, no. They were completely and utterly flat black pits of darkness. They were completely closed off, holding each and every emotion captive in their depths. But they were large, not beady like my father's or almond-shaped like Kailyn's, but perfectly round spheres. His hair resembled the color of his eyes, but not quite as dark. It fell over his forehead in soft waves and, in the back, reached his collar, curling at the ends. And his lips, his perfect lips were flawlessly full, not _too_ full like Warren's were. No, his lips were perfectly proportionate for his gorgeous face. His _absolutely _gorgeous face. His skin was the kind of tan that made you think he'd worked under the sun his whole life, but his complexion was completely unblemished. The kind of skin every girl would die to have. He wore faded jeans that hung low on his hips and a fitted black v-neck. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he walked over and sat where my dad had been sitting not five minutes earlier, his eyes studying me. He didn't say anything. We just sat like that.

"Well?" I asked. He raised his eyebrows at me. Yeah he looked like a real mess, and he _obviously_ wanted to apologize, just apparently didn't know how.

"Why don't we start with something simple like, what happened?" I asked.

"An accident," he replied in a low, husky voice. It sent chills up my spine, leaving me dotted with chill bumps.

I snorted, "Oh really? I would've never guessed." His eyes searched my face for something, then eventually moved upward to study my head wrapped in gauze.

"My dad told me that you've been here since we arrived two days ago. He said that you were a total mess and wanted to apologize." He shrugged. My eyes became slits. How could he act so nonchalant about this?

"Why weren't you hurt?" I asked, trying to pry some kind of answer out of him.

"Just lucky I guess." Agitation started to make its presence known in me.

"Why did you stay here all this time if you're not hardly going to speak to me?" His eyes were traveling around the room, avoiding my gaze as much as possible.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well I survived," I snapped. "If you don't have anything to say to me, then just leave."

His eyes flicked to mine, "Okay." And he walked out.

•••

I got home Wednesday afternoon once Dr. Jameson confirmed (in an amazingly beautiful British accent) that I'd be okay. He told me to take it easy and not go back to school at least until Monday, but I had exams coming up, I couldn't miss any more of my classes. So the next morning, I got ready — with difficulty — and got Kailyn to come and pick me up for school. When we got there, everyone stared me down. It was like Kinsley Morgan, one of the most popular girls at Carmel High, hadn't come to school just two months earlier with a complete cast on her arm. No — it was like not one person had _ever _seen someone wearing a brace before in their entire lives. In other words most kids at my school had the IQ of a bowling pin.

I walked into my sixth period class, AP English, and took my usual seat at the back of the room. I started to get settled in when I felt a shadow standing over me.

I started to look up. "Can I help y-" It was him. The guy who'd hit me. Why the crap was he at my school? Trying to take_ my_ seat? Oh my God. He must have enrolled after he left me at the hospital. Oh my God.

"You're in my seat," he replied frankly.

"Um, I've sat here since school began. Go find somewhere else to sit." He looked around for a moment.

"There's nowhere else to sit."

"Is that my problem? No. It's yours." I didn't bother look around, I already knew everyone was staring at us, and not only because of our arguing, but because of how stunning he was. He turned on his heel toward Mrs. Lovelady and asked her something. He set down his one binder on her desk and walked out of the room. When he returned, he had a desk gripped in one hand and carried it across the room like it weighed no more than a feather. He was basically begging for every girl to stare. And stare they did. (And drool might I add.) Especially when he plopped his desk down right behind mine, scooting it all the way up until it hit the back of it. I didn't have to look back at him to know he was wearing a smirk on his picture perfect mouth. Oh God, why me?

"Okay class, before we start, I have an announcement." She looked oddly happy. "We are going to start a class project. I will pair you up with one person and give you each an index card. As soon as you get paired up, you will write down the first word that comes to mind after speaking with your partner. That's all we'll have time for today, but tomorrow we'll get to the next step which involves more information on your partner. Eventually, you'll have written an informative essay on whether or not that word actually implies to your partner. But, anyway, all you need to do today is write down your word on your index card." That's when the pairing started. She started pairing us up and, as soon as she got to me, there was only one person left. Guess who that was? Yippee.

She walked over to us, "Brielle, you'll be with Sam here." So his name was Sam. "I don't think you've met him yet, but he's our new student."

"Oh trust me," I assured her, "we've met."

She looked confused for a moment then smiled and said, "Well great then," and handed us our index cards. I sighed and tried to turn my desk to face his, but it was nearly impossible for me with my hurt wrist. I grunted in frustration and dropped back into my chair. I waited for him to pull up his desk in front of mine. I looked back at him expectantly. He wore a slightly amused expression with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh shut up. This was your fault anyway, so just bring your desk around so we can write down the stupid words. Wait, no don't. I already have my word for you. So stay." I wrote down my description of him on the back of my index card and sank back into my chair. Out of nowhere, his hand reached over my shoulder and picked up my card.

"Hey!" I tried to snatch it back from him, but he pulled it out of my reach and read it, the right corner of his mouth tugging up slightly as he looked up at me. His eyelashes literally brushed against his eyebrows when he looked up at me through them.

"'Delinquent'? Quite the imagination you've got." I turned around almost completely in my desk and looked at him.

"Well, that's the first word that popped into my head when you basically blew me off in the hospital the other day," I whipped out.

"Blew you off? I waited outside your door for two days. I don't know about you, but in my dictionary, the definition of being 'blown off' implies the other person not even showing up."

I stared at him through slits. "Why did you even waste your time? You sat outside my door for two days just to — to what? Check on me? You could've just asked a nurse, my dad even. So why?" I interrogated him.

He looked at me sharply, jaw clenched. "I don't know."


	3. Chapter 3: Brielle Darby

**3.**

After dozens of pitiful looks and sympathized conversations, I was finally free.

I sighed as I slipped into Kailyn's Jeep, being careful not to be to rough on my arm or head. We tore out of the school's parking lot and sped toward my house.

"So," Kailyn started, "what are you doing this weekend?"

"Chilling with my dad before he leaves Sunday."

She pursed her lips and nodded, "While he's gone, we should do something….Something illegal. Definitely something illegal."

I cracked a grin, "And what did you have in mind?"

"My brother told me that this club just opened in Seaside, we should check it out, you know, have some fun."

"Oh really? Adam told you this? Why?" I questioned with a chuckle.

"His car is a piece of crap and he can't afford a mechanic. I have a car. I'd take him and he'd sneak us in. Win, win."

"Tell him to walk or something, Seaside isn't very far. I don't feel like going to jail this close to my birthday." I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Bri…" She pouted. "Please! It'll be fun!"

I sighed but ended up flashing her a wicked grin, "If you get drunk I'm going to pretend I have no idea who you are."

"Ditto," she grinned.

•••

"I'll be back in six days, a week tops," My dad assured me. He usually never took trips this far, he hardly ever went out of state. But there we were; me watching from his bed as he packed the last of his things for the meeting he had to attend in New York which, according to Expedia, was a seven hour and forty-seven minute long flight with a stop in Phoenix.

"But, you're going to be gone for my birthday…" Only four more days until my birthday, which fell on Thursday this year. But, according to Kailyn, we were going to be celebrating it on Friday night.

"Well, in a way that's a good thing. I won't be in the way of your party. And there's plenty of time for Misty, so don't worry." Misty was the small boat my dad and I went sailing in on my birthday every year. Except my fourteenth birthday party; mom had died only three days earlier. The anniversary of her death was tomorrow, and I think that's really why Dad wanted to get away. He said that I reminded him of her so much; my long dark hair, my dimples, my smooth olive skin, even my nose. Why would he want to be around the one person that looked so much like his diseased wife on the anniversary of her death? His high school sweetheart he'd been with for eighteen years? He wouldn't, but at least he had a valid excuse.

"But," a sloppy grin painted itself on his face, "I got you something."

I sighed but ended up smiling, "Dad, I told you not to."

"Oh well, and besides, it's not much." He reached into one of his dresser drawers and pulled out a rectangular shaped box. He handed it to me, still smiling his signature half smile. I chuckled softly and shook my head but gently took it from him anyway. I popped it open and nestled in the soft velvet was a beautiful, chain-linked silver bracelet. I picked it up, admiring it in awe. Clipped to the thin bracelet was a small heart near the clasp. Simple yet elegant.

"I love it," I whispered. My eyes started to water, "Dad, it's so beautiful." I hugged him tightly, not wanting him to go to New York. He squeezed me back and rested his chin on the crown on of my head.

"It's so you'll never forget how much I love you. You will never stop being my little girl, even if you are about to turn seventeen." He kissed my hair then pulled away and I was surprised to see a tear in his eye as well. He blinked it away and smiled, lines fanning out at the corners of his eyes.

"Dad…Thank you. Just, thank you."

He smiled again proudly, "Don't thank me just yet. I got you something else too." He gripped my good hand and dragged me to the front door.

"Look." He nodded toward the glass. I looked out and gasped. A car.

"A 1972 Chevy Blazer." My dream car. My father and I stared at it in awe. I knew exactly why he'd gotten it. He'd had one when I was younger, but sold it after we moved, claiming that he needed a new car to go with his new job. _'An old Chevy isn't what someone with a respectable job drives,'_ he'd told me when I was fifteen. I'd grown up with that Blazer; learned how to drive it when I was twelve. He couldn't just tear all those memories away from me, right? Wrong.

"That's — for me? But, I just got in a car crash, why would you trust me with a car like _that_?" From the outside, it looked completely refurbished. The cab and bed were painted a pastel blue while the top was painted white. Thank God the SUV wasn't jacked up on huge tires, it stayed pretty close to the ground.

"Well, the accident wasn't your fault. Sam admitted to hitting you." That brought me up short.

"You and Sam are on a _first name bases?"_ I asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. I mean…We spent two days together in the hospital, of course I was going to confront him…and when I saw what a mess he was and how bad he felt, I cut him some slack. Turns out he was a nice kid." _What a mess he was?_

"_Nice kid? _Are you _serious?" _I asked in disbelief.

"Well…yeah. Sorry, look never mind about that. Just, go have a look at your new car." He looked away kind of awkwardly.

I sighed, "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm just not too…_fond _of him. But, thank you so much for the car. Really, it means so much." We hugged.

•••

I went to sleep early that night. I was — obviously — terrified that I was home alone for nearly a week, especially after the break-in. I mean, someone _had _broken into my house. I wasn't going crazy. I distinctly remembered closing my window and locking my front door. _And _I absolutely, undoubtedly recalled hearing my name. No one else had been in the house with me at the time. Except the intruder.

The next morning, I got dressed and drove to school. I parked and walked into my first class, Spanish. Spanish passed in a blur of conjugating verbs and, before I knew it, I was dreadfully walking to Biology where I'd be honored with sitting right next to Asher for a full forty minutes. I stepped into class, and trudged towards my seat which sat in the middle of the room.

"Why you looking so glum _Darby?_" Coach Nailor asked loudly.

"No reason, Coach. I'm feeling _amazing,_" I said with fake enthusiasm.

"Now that's more like it," he grinned wickedly.

Coach Nailor was a jokester. He breathed snide remarks and noticed _everything, _he let absolutely nothing slide past him. Don't get me wrong; Coach was hilarious, but only when his comments were directed at someone else. He'd transferred to Carmel two years earlier. He coached the girls' JV and Varsity soccer teams, and had led them to the State Championships both years he'd been here, winning gold both times. Being originally from Mississippi, he was part southern and part ghetto_. _Even on my worst days he managed to make me smile, _or_ feel even worse about myself. Depending on who his "observations" were based upon. For example, just about everyone — including the school faculty — knew about Asher and I being a couple. We were thrilled to have Biology and English together, that is, until he'd broken up with me. Coach Nailor _still _cracked jokes about our relationship. Which made things extremely awkward and emotional — on my part — especially considering we'd been seated right next to each other in Biology. English was a bit better; he sat one row over, two desks ahead.

Coach Nailor began class by commenting on Jayla's lack of style and Dalen's poor taste in his favorite NFL team, the Tennessee Longhorns, which he represented almost every day by wearing the team's famous colors. I tuned out of his lecture just as he began to ramble on about ionic and covalent bonding, finding the straps on my brace far more interesting. I silently agonized over who could've been in my house that Monday night. I repeatedly questioned myself, not able to resist the feeling of something — other than the fact that someone had been in my house — was off about the whole situation. I mean, Sam showing up right after the accident? What were the chances that we'd get into a car crash then he'd enroll in my school the _very_ next day? _I don't know, _Sam's voice said harshly in my mind. I winced the tinniest bit at the memory. And who was this Warren guy? Something seemed _incredibly _off about that guy.

While all of this flooded my brain, I was trying my hardest not to look at Asher, but every once in a while I gave in. Stupid, stupid Brielle. He's not yours anymore. Get over him. Before long, the bell rang, signaling break. I sighed in relief and began to walk out before being pulled back by Coach Nailor.

"What's going on Brielle?" He was serious now, searching my eyes for some kind of answer. "You're usually never this distracted in my class." I sighed, knowing he was right. I wasn't this girl. I was the girl that always paid attention in class, the one constantly taking notes. I was the girl that always knew the answer in her head, but never spoke up unless called upon. I was the girl that did her work then went home. I wasn't _this _girl, definitely not _this _girl.

"I-I…" I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "I don't know Coach Nailor. So much is going on right now and I've just had a lot on my mind. I'm sorry," I apologized. Like the fact that today was the anniversary of my mother's death. He eyed me for a moment.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

I nodded, "Yeah, of course." I gathered my things once more and walked out and headed towards the courtyard to talk to Kailyn.

•••

Only two more classes, I thought to myself as I entered English. Mrs. Lovelady smiled at me when I walked through the door. I ginned dryly back at her; She was an amazing teacher and I loved her, but I was honestly still a little peeved at her for pairing me with Sam for the stupid project. I sat down in my seat and took out my binder and a mechanical pencil. Sam walked through the doorway just as the bell rang, locking eyes with me the moment he entered the room. I looked down and began doodling on a scrap sheet of paper.

"Okay class," Mrs. Lovelady began, "let's get straight to our current project. You all kept your index cards I'm hoping. Please take them out now." Everyone began to search for the small card so vital to this project.

"Now then, I know some of you probably weren't able to write down a word yesterday or you might want to change your word, so why don't you pair back up with your partner and make sure you write down the best possible word on your index card." People began to drag their desks across the room, but I stayed put, content with my word. As if he'd appeared out of thin air, Sam was suddenly standing in front of my desk. He gripped it with no hesitation and turned it to where it was facing his with what seemed to be no effort whatsoever.

"Uh, I'm good with my word," I said.

"Well, I don't have one."

"I'm sure you'll manage, it's not as if you don't have a dictionary up there, am I right? Or is the definition of_ 'blown_ _off' _the only one you can conjure up?" I asked sarcastically.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But, if I remember correctly, it was _you _with the vocabulary of a seven year old when describing me as a "delinquent", but, I'm _sure _your horizons are broader than that and you were able to come up with a more…_suitable _word after a while. Am I right?" He sarcastically asked.

"Oh come _on,_" I sneered at him. "You really think "delinquent" isn't a _suitable _word when describing you? The word _delinquent_ is written all over you!" I said, exasperated with him.

He quirked an eyebrow, "Oh really? And you know this because you've seen my naked body?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh," I said in disgust, "just write down the freaking word and be done with it okay?"

He stared at me intently for a moment before scrawling a word onto his index card. I reached over to snatch it up and read the word, but he anticipated that. He grabbed the card before I could.

"Ah, ah, ah."

"But you read mine!" I whined childishly.

"Be quicker next time," he smirked. I grumbled out something unintelligent before scraping my desk against the floor, finally managing to turn it around.

After English ended, I made my way to my favorite class of all; Band. Okay, so, _yeah._ I know, band sounds lame, but it's really not. It was only October second, so it was still football season, which meant that we still had to practice for the half-time shows. I heard everyone before I saw them. When I got to the band hall, I saw all of the chairs had been cleared out of the room (as usual) and the platform that the jazz band had to stand on during the performance was placed in the middle of the room. It was on four wheels, but one of the back ones was messed up, so it made a horrible rickety sound every time pressure was put on it. The group of people that I usually hung out with was standing all around it, stomping on it with their feet and clapping while Leah, a baritone player, was rapping freestyle. One of my good friends that was on drumline, Nick, smiled at me when he saw me. A few other people waved me over. I set down my stuff in a corner and held up a finger before I went to change in the bathroom. During marching band season, we didn't have class inside. We went out onto the practice field and rehearsed for what felt like _forever_. I played French horn, (in marching band it's a mellophone), but during the field shows I was on Color Guard.

"Children!" I heard Mr. Cagle shout.

"To the practice field!" Mr. Kirk yelled.

I pulled on my gloves, grabbed my water, and put on my Ray-Bans. I grasped my flag, rifle and saber before walking with a few others out to the practice field. The searing heat was already making my tank top stick to me. As we walked through the parking lot, something strange caught my eye. On the completely other side of the lot, I barely made out Warren watching me before climbing into his Audi and racing off to who knows where. My brow furrowed for a moment, but then I shook it off. Band was what distracted me from reality. Focusing on the counts and choreography helped me forget everything else and put off my problems, if only for a little while. Band was, sad as it sounds, my refuge.


	4. Chapter 4: Brielle Darby

**4.**

After school let out, Kailyn and I sat in her Jeep as she drove toward my house. (I didn't want to take any risks by driving my new Blazer.)

"So, who pinched your cheeks this time? Warren?" Kailyn asked me.

When I'd first moved here, Kailyn had a questionable interest in my cheeks. She'd pinch them every chance she got, which then led to other people squeezing them as well. It annoyed the crap out of me, which made her do it even more. Ever since then, every time I seemed annoyed, she'd automatically ask who'd "pinched my cheeks".

I sighed. "No, it wasn't him. Although, he was acting really weird yesterday. Like, I was in band and we were going to the practice field and he was just sitting in the parking lot staring at me. Then he just got in his car and left."

Kailyn scrunched up her nose. "That's strange. But then whogot you all…" She waved her hands at me, "all touchy and stuff?"

"Ugh, this new guy. Mrs. Lovelady paired us up for some stupid English project and…He's just incredibly annoying." I could hear the frustration in my own voice.

"Hold up. There's _another_ new guy? Like, as in, a guy _other _than Warren? Why didn't you tell me?" She stared me down.

"Keep your eyes on the road and your panties out of your crack, okay? I'm telling you now aren't I? But anyway, he's just, trouble. I can tell," I looked out my window.

"Is he hot?" I rolled my eyes. Of course she would ask that.

I sighed, "Yeah. He's pretty gorgeous. But that doesn't matter….He's the one who hit me." I could feel my rage starting to flare.

"Brielle! He's the one who hit you?…How do you know?" She sounded even more intrigued.

"Because he supposedly sat outside my hospital door for two days just to come in, say five words to me, then leave. I honestly don't know why he wasted so much of his time, it's not like I was in a grave state anyway. I had a concussion and a fractured wrist."

"He sat outside your door for two days? Aw, that's like, so romantic!" She squealed.

"Uh. No. I don't want anything to do with him. I just want to get this project done and be finished with him."  
_  
******  
I stood on the lonesome street. _

_Its pavement was bitterly cold on the currently numb bottoms of my bare feet. The hem of my pristine white dress hung several inches below my ankles and bunched at my feet. The thin straps left my shoulders exposed to the unforgiving temperature although my hair flowed down in loose waves to cover them. The dry, icy wind blew a few dried leaves to my right, the only movement I'd been aware of for the past ten minutes. I speculated the frost covered patch of grass before me, wondering how that one little detail was able to capture my attention out of everything else that could have interested me; The empty house before me; The sub-zero climate; The shrill howl of a lone wolf not far in the distance. I took one confident step forward. And then another._

_I stood in the ominous house. _

_I looked around the forgotten home, bare of almost any furniture except one small table in the middle of what looked to be the living room. Empty picture frames, which hung crookedly on the walls and stood on the mantle and the small table, littered the floor with their nothingness. The glass in every one of the frames had been smashed, traces of blood noticeable. They were everywhere, as if they wished to fill me with an emptiness so deep and impenetrable it ached. But this was not new to me _¾_ no. I had seen it all before, from all of the smashed and broken windows to the blood-stained spots on the beige carpets, countertops and sinks. The house still stank of the thick iron liquid; it seemed to embrace me. I felt as if it could wrap its crimson tendrils around me in a vice-tight grip, not allowing me to escape its fiery face. I had been here before. When? I didn't know, I just knew everything about this house was familiar. When I held my hand out to touch the closest frame with the end of my fingertip, the realization of what was happening started to dawn on me. My hands were bloody. Had I really been the one to cause that sickeningly untouchable feeling of loneliness to wrench my gut this way and that? I looked at my hands — admired them almost — for having the power to cause that much destruction. That much pain. I let them fall, once again, to my sides. I would deal with any internal conflicts after I found the answer._

_I stood before the sliding glass door. _

_Looking out through the few jagged ends of the broken glass which still clung to its frame and into the dreary winter woods, I longed to know what was lurking about in those surreptitious shadows. Even though I knew not too, I stepped outside and onto the back porch, and stared into the unpromising darkness._

_I stood in the immaculate white snow. _

_Blemishing the soft blanket with my footsteps, I walked only six steps, so sure that I would find the answer this time, towards the menacing trees and made out the figure of someone waiting for me in the dark foliage —  
******_

I gasped as I shot up out of bed. I'd forgotten to pull my hair up before I fell asleep, so it was plastered to every inch of open skin of my face and arms. I stumbled out of my bed and caught myself against the wall, gasping like a fish out of water. I staggered into my bathroom, the fluorescent bulbs all but blinding me. I looked up at myself in the mirror, my almost neon violet eyes looked wide and terrified. I slowly gathered almost all of my rambunctious curls and threw them up in a sloppy bun. I turned on the faucet and splashed the icy water against my face, making excess mascara I'd been too lazy to wash away run down my cheeks. Soon, my salty tears began to mix with the water on my skin.

The house in my dream had been my old home in Minnesota.

I turned off the water when my cheeks felt rubbed raw and slid down the wall across from my sink. What could that have meant? Why had my hands been bloody? Had I done all that to my old home? I would never. A loud slam echoed throughout my house. I screamed and cowered into the wall. What the — Not again.

I stood slowly and tears started brim my eyes once again. My lower lip trembled as I stepped out of the bathroom. A migraine started to emerge from the depths of my mind just like one always did when I cried. I hesitantly padded toward my room where the sound had come from. I stepped through the dark doorway and saw a dark silhouette. A combination of a gasp and a scream threatened to escape my lips, but nothing came. We stood there for a moment — the entire universe fell silent. I didn't wait for him to come near me. I shot forward, grabbed my keys and booked it downstairs.

Every light was off, none of the switches worked. When my foot hit the last step, a hand locked onto my right shoulder and pulled me backward. The burglar's other hand clasped over my mouth, stifling my cries for help.

"Shh." The burglar was a man. The hand he'd grabbed my shoulder with traveled down to hug me to him. We stood there for a moment, as if he was listening for something. After a moment of motionlessness, he guided me slowly toward the island in the middle of my kitchen and slid me down behind it. He sat beside me, one arm still around me. Oh my God, who was this? OHMYGOD. What was happening? Oh God. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

_Please make it fast, _I prayed silently.

He held me tightly to him, making sure not to come in contact with my bad arm. Tears streamed down my face like they would never stop. I choked back sobs, I was afraid that if I made a sound, he would try to hurt me. This was madness. Through all the snot stuffing my nose, I caught whiffs of peppermint and cinnamon. Wait. I knew that smell. I looked at him and barely made out the plains of his face. Oh my gosh. I reached up and touched his perfect lips.

"Sam?"

He dragged a hand over his face. He tipped his head back against the island, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. His dark eyes flicked to mine. His grip tightened around my waist suddenly and he brought a finger to his lips, telling me to be quiet, I obeyed warily. I looked over at my microwave which told me that it was 2:18 in the morning. He pulled me up by the hand and hauled me to my back door. With a flick of his wrist, he opened it and led me to the side of my house where his ride sat, blending in almost completely against the darkness.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" I questioned him in a shaky voice.

"We just have to get out of here. I need to keep you safe." My hand was still in his grip, so I pulled free, looking at him with a cold stare.

"Keep me safe from what?" I asked with a hard edge to my voice.

"Not a what. A who," he corrected me.

"What are you talking about? How did you even get into my house?" I was almost screaming, pounding my questions into him.

"Your window." So that had been what the loud bang was.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you talking about?" He opened the passenger door.

"Sam. I'm not getting in that car."

He gave me a hard look. "The hell you aren't." He scooped me up bridal style, knocking the breath out of me. He tossed me onto the seat lightly and closed the door. I huffed in disbelief. Who was this "person" that he was trying to protect me from? Why was he so intent on dragging me out of my house and into his car — which by the way was the exact opposite of him. He seemed like this quiet, dangerous guy whereas his sleek van completely reeked of overprotective soccer mom. He hopped into the front seat and ripped out of my lawn, driving toward the far off highway. Once we finally made our way onto the highway, I recognized where he was going. Kailyn's.

"Sam, why are you taking me to Kailyn's house?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"Because you need to be somewhere other than your house."

"You know, I have a feeling that you're keeping something huge from me," I said sarcastically. "Tell me." He was carefully avoiding the truth; tiptoeing around it. I could tell by the look in his eyes. We pulled into Kailyn's driveway.

"How do you know where she lives?" I wondered aloud.

"That's not important right now," he didn't turn to face me as he spoke. "Just don't go home until _I _come back for you." Now he looked me in the eyes. "Don't leave with _anyone _else."

"Wait — did you get into some kind of gang trouble or something?" I didn't know why that would involve me, but, who knew? I had no plausible explanation for why Sam kidnapped me. To keep me safe? From what — who?

He looked towards the house in front of us and gave me a low chuckle devoid of any humor while rubbing his chin. "You could call it that."

"_What?" _I shrieked. "What does that have to do with me? I am in no way connected to your personal life!" I started to hyperventilate. What if there were dozens of gang bangers wanting me dead? Oh God. What if I got shot within the hour? I was dead.

"Cool it, Darby. You're not going to get shot." How did he know my last name?

"How do you know tha — What?" Had I said that out loud? No, I was pretty sure that I'd thought it. How did he know that? Was he somehow in my head? No. Impossible. His eyes didn't leave the windshield.

"How did you know that I was thinking that Sam? Answer me." I'd turned to face him, my wide eyes frozen on his face.

"Considering it was written all over your face, it wasn't hard to guess," he replied smoothly.

"_Guess? _That's _exactly_ what I was thinking! What the hell is going on? Answer me Sam! For once! Just give me something!"

He looked at me sharply then. "You want to know something? How about I'm risking everything by saving you? Or how by saving you, _I_ could end up being the one hurting you in the end? I never wanted you to get hurt, but it might be inevitable." I was frozen in shock. What did he mean he was risking everything to save me? Or that he could be the one that hurt me? In the end? End of what? This all made absolutely no sense.

He suddenly got out of the car and came to my side. He pulled the door open and gripped my shoulder, roughly pulling me out.

"I don't have time for this," he growled.

"Ah!" I gasped out in pain when his grasp tightened on my shoulder as I stumbled over a hole in her lawn. He knocked on the door rapidly, a groggy-looking Kailyn opened the door.

"What-" Sam thrust me inside before she could finish her question.

"Don't let her out of your sight." And with that he stalked back to his van and sped away.

"What the hell is going on?" Kailyn asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I have absolutely no idea," I replied, watching as Sam's taillights disappeared at the end of her street. "But I'm going to find out."

•••

"Let's do this!" Kailyn fist-pumped the air. In the matter of five minutes, we'd changed into all black and were speeding back to my house. I slowed as we rounded the corner just before my house, expecting to see Sam there with some messed up crackhead or something, but…nothing. Not a single thing had changed since I'd left with Sam not twenty minutes earlier. My brow furrowed as I pulled slowly into my driveway. Kailyn's enthusiasm left the minute she saw my house. Nothing was really _wrong _with it. It just seemed…_cold. _And empty.

"Whoa…" Kailyn whispered. "It's like…so…It just seems so _different_…"

"I know," I murmured. Now I was beginning to feel really worried…and scared. "Only one way to find out what's going on. You coming with me?" I asked Kailyn.

"Eh," she replied a bit shakily, "pass." I nodded and stepped out of the car. I walked up to my front door and hesitantly went to open it, finding it already cracked. My breath slightly hitched at the thought of someone actually being in there. I took a steady breath and entered through the threshold. I stepped in farther and reached to turn the lights on, but they weren't working, which only caused me to freak out more. There was abruptly a hand on my forearm, pulling me downwards. I huffed out a breath as I fell to the floor with a muted thump. I looked up and found Sam's face centimeters from mine.

"What are you doing here?" He growled fiercely, his words clipped and short.

"Tell me what's going on or so help me I _will _call the police." Sam's eyes suddenly shot to the door to my left. He began to push me roughly out the opening.

"Get back to Kailyn's before —" A piercing scream came from the Jeep. Oh God. Kailyn. I pulled away from Sam and ran towards the Jeep, but she was gone; the driver's side door ripped from its hinges.

"Oh my God!" I screamed, tears now rolling own my cheeks. "Kailyn! Kailyn where are you?" I shouted. I faced Sam who looked like this was all just a big inconvenience. "Do something! Find her! Who took her? What is going on? Sam! Tell me right now!" I was yelling in his face, tears streaming down mine.

"Calm down," he stated quietly, looking me dead in the eyes. I ignored him. _Calm? _After what just happened? Calm wasn't even in my vocabulary at the moment, much less something I was capable of being. He took my shoulders in his hands and bore his black eyes into mine.

"Calm." His voice was steel. A sudden wave of tranquility washed through me. My tears stopped flowing and I stood there limply, trying to make sense of what he'd just done. Had he just…_controlled my emotions? _

"What just…What did you just do?" I asked, stunned.

"You're okay," he said in a soothing voice. "Everything's okay." As soon as he said it, everything _did _feel okay. I stared at him with wide eyes, still unsure about what was going on. Tears began to well up in my eyes and they spilled over.

"Sam…who took her?" I asked, my breath hitching.

"I'll explain later," he said, "but we _have _to get out of here. Please trust me on this one." I looked at him for a moment, feeling more helpless than ever, and hesitantly nodded.

"Where are we going?" I asked. He exhaled loudly and rubbed a hand over his face.

"A friend of mine's. He lives in Washington." My eyes bulged.

"Washington? As in, out of state? But why?" I asked in disbelief.

"I need to get you away from here Brielle."

"But I don't really know you…"

"I know." The look in his eyes told me he was dead serious. Maybe if I went with him he'd tell me what was going on, and where Kailyn was.

"Can I go get some of my things?" I asked quietly. He nodded his head once and I turned to go back inside. Sam stayed close behind me as I walked up the stairs. When we got to my room, I pulled out a duffel bag from underneath my bed and started loading it with clothes.

"How long will I have to stay?"

"As long as it takes so…maybe a week or two."

"Or _two?_ My dad will be back on Sunday! What's he going to think? What will happen to him? Will he be taken too?" I asked frantically.

"No, he won't. I'll take care of him, don't worry."

"Don't worry? My best friend was just taken by someone you know but won't say who, my house was broken into for the third time tonight, I have to drive all the way to Washington with someone I don't even know —"

"Wait. Did you say for the third time? I've only been in here twice."

"Oh um, someone broke into my house last Monday. Like, my window and front door were open." I shook my head, remembering the chilling situation.

"Tell me everything when we get in the car." I nodded slightly. He didn't say anything as I finished packing my belongings. He rushed me out of the house and towards his car which sat on my side yard once again. As I was about to slide into the passenger seat, I questioned myself. What was I doing? Was I really going to drive all the way to Washington with a guy I'd known for less than a week? If Washington was even where he was planning on taking me…

"Sam…you're not going to…You aren't planning on hurting me. Are you?" I asked in a small voice.

He looked at me from the other side of the van. "No Brielle. I have no intentions of hurting you." Honesty clung to each and every one of his words, making me feel just the tinniest bit calmer. I let out a deep breath and sat down in his car. He began to drive, but I stopped him suddenly.

"Wait, what about Kailyn's car? Won't people find that suspicious or something?"

"I've got it covered." Covered? The way he talked made me less and less sure that what he said was true. I looked intently at his face as he sped down the highway. By the time I filled him in on everything that had happened that night we were already almost out of town.

"Why don't you sleep? It's been a long night. We won't be in Washington for another fifteen or so hours." _Fifteen? _I wasn't even tired though.

"Can we…Do you mind if we talk? I would just feel a lot better if I knew a little more about you." He sighed.

"Yeah, fine. We can talk."

"Where were you born?" I asked him.

"Syracuse, New York." What was up with people living in New York then moving to Carmel?

"When?"

"February first."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen." His answers were short, not willing to offer more than the bare minimum.

I hesitantly asked the next question. "Your parents?"

"Dead." I looked at him sadly for a moment, but then turned to stare blankly out my window.

"My mom died when I was thirteen and my dad is basically never around, so I kind of know the feeling."

"How'd your mom die?" He asked me. My thoughts trailed back to the memories of my father finally telling me the news, the memories of my mother's funeral.

"Car crash. A drunk senior hit my mom head on." It was still painful to talk about it, especially since the anniversary was yesterday. "Yours?" I asked. No response. I took a deep, agitated breath. He could ask how my mom died, but wouldn't tell me how his had? Bull.

"What's really going on Sam? Why are you taking me to Washington?" I asked, suddenly weary. He didn't answer for a few minutes, deciding to leave me in the dark for that much longer.

Finally, he said, "Right now's not the time to tell you." I fought the urge to reach over and punch him square in the jaw.

"What do you mean?" I huffed. "After what happened tonight, I deserve some answers."

"That you do, just not now."

I shook my head. "Unbelievable," I muttered. I crossed my arms and glared angrily out my window.

"Just go to sleep Brielle." He sounded like I was a child that just wouldn't shut up. I scoffed, amazed at how he could sit there and deny me the one thing that I wanted as he dragged me to _Washington_. I mean, why couldn't he just allow me a few answers? My best friend had just been kidnapped for Christ's sake! I shook my head again then unbuckled my seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked me suspiciously,

"Going to sleep. Just like you told me to," I snapped as I climbed into the backseat and laid down.

A few tears fell from the brims of my eyes as I thought about what Kailyn could've been going through. Was she being tortured? Where could she have been? And of course, the infamous question: _Who took her?_ I reluctantly succumbed to the blackness behind my lids, fingering the necklace Kailyn had given me on my fourteenth birthday before I slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
